Don't do this to me, Sherlock
by TrafalgarLucy
Summary: Post!Reichenbach. Sherlock and John returned to their normal routine of solving crimes together as if nothing had happened. Then, one night, Sherlock once again runs off on his own and John starts to panic...


He told him not to run off on his own. And what did he do? He ran off on his own. That seemed to be one thing Sherlock Holmes liked to do: just run after a dangerous serial killer without thinking about the consequences. Apparently it never occurred to him that he could get seriously injured or even killed. No, the only one thinking about those options was John while he tried to catch up with his flatmate. Which was harder than it sounded like. He had to stop a few times to figure out which way Sherlock took and he couldn't afford to pick the wrong one. Not if it meant that his Sherlock could get shot. Fortunately it was winter and there was lots of snow on the pavements, making it easier to make out where the detective went, especially since there were not many people on the streets at such a late hour.

Twenty minutes and ten slide-slips later he finally found him, no- them. They were facing each other on a nearby playground. The killer was pointing a gun at Sherlock, while he himself was unarmed. John froze in his steps when he saw the finger resting on the trigger and the grin on the man's face. He was about to shoot. He knew Sherlock was fast, but he doubted that he could dodge a bullet, and certainly not when the killer shot him more than once. That, however, wouldn't happen. This man wouldn't even get to fire one bullet, not if he could prevent it – and he could. In a swift motion John grabbed his gun and aimed it at the man threatening Sherlock.

"Goodbye, Mr Holmes," the killer said as he stepped a bit closer as if he wanted to make sure he really hit his target. And Sherlock didn't move. He couldn't. He finally seemed to realise that his actions could kill him. This meeting wasn't going according to his plan and it certainly wouldn't end in his favour. He swallowed hard before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. His mind was trying to figure out a quick escape plan, but there wasn't. As soon as he started to move this guy would shoot him. And even if he didn't do anything, it was over. A part of him, however, still hoped that John would show up to save him like he always did, even though he probably didn't even know where he ran off to. He wouldn't just let him die here, right? He would come to save him. And then he would yell at him for not listening. He wouldn't let it end like this, right...?

BANG.

Sherlock heard the gun shot and waited for the pain to come, but it didn't. Did he miss? He hesitated a moment before he slowly opened one eye. The murderer was down. He was lying on the ground, blood pouring out of his chest. Being shocked by what he just saw he opened his eyes completely, staring down at the dead body right in front of him. He still wasn't able to move, so he didn't turn around when he heard a very familiar voice calling his name from behind.

"Sherlock, you okay?" Silence. Worry.  
"Are you okay!?" A nod. A relieved sigh.  
"Thank God..." A whisper.

After John had put his gun away, he looked up at Sherlock. He couldn't help it. He was so mad at this man for not listening to him, he was mad at him for running off again, mad at him for getting himself nearly killed – again. Just when Sherlock was about to open his mouth to mutter a 'thank you' John lifted his hand and punched his friend right in the face. Holding his face, Sherlock stumbled backwards before falling into the cold snow. His eyes showed how confused and irritated he was. Why did John hit him? Well, he was about to get an answer to that question. John walked over to where Sherlock was lying and knelt down on top of him, placing his legs on each side of his friend. He grabbed the detective's collar, lifting him up a bit and Sherlock immediately used his forearms for support.

"You're such an idiot, Sherlock! How many times did I tell you not to run after a killer on your own!? And yet you always do it again. You never listen. You always have to do it your way don't you? You never think about the fact that you could get yourself killed with those actions! But you could, Sherlock! If I didn't happen to follow you tonight... if I hadn't noticed you ran off again..." he hung his head, not finishing what he was about to say. He didn't even want to think about what would have happened if he didn't run after him. His hands were shaking and he had a hard time fighting back some tears. Ever since Sherlock came back from his 'death' about half a year ago John swore to himself that he would not lose him again. He wouldn't be able to handle it a second time. And yet, just a few moments ago he had to fear that exactly that would happen. Just one second later and he would have lost him once again. Just thinking about it sort of broke him.

"Don't do this to me, Sherlock... please, not again..." his voice as shaking by now and he figured that it didn't matter if he was crying or not. He couldn't hold the tears back any longer, anyway. "I wouldn't be able to handle it, I-" John stopped when he felt Sherlock's hand touching his cheek. He looked up and his teary eyes met Sherlock's ocean-green ones. His gaze was softer than usual, which had a calming effect on John. He could stare into those eyes for hours. "Don't ever leave me again, Sherlock..." he whispered, before he took a deep breath to calm himself down. His heart was racing and his lips shaking as he closed his eyes and pulled Sherlock closer, pressing his lips onto his friend's.

Caught off-guard, Sherlock blinked a few times before he finally understood what just happened. He didn't mind. He was waiting for this moment to come and now here it was. Putting his arms around John's neck, Sherlock fell back into the soft snow underneath him as a slight smile appeared on his lips. He didn't plan on leaving his John any time soon.


End file.
